


Wayne Boutiques

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: AU, Gen, Mostly Crack, just a fun idea I wanted to put out here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is the CEO of Wayne Boutiques, and Tim is his well-meaning, but rather clumsy employee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayne Boutiques

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based off my own work experiences, and it was just an idea that was really funny to me that I thought I'd share. enjoy :)

Okay, so if anyone asked Tim what his _least_ favorite part of his job was (no one ever asked, but, whatever), he’d reply without hesitation that it was definitely dealing with _customers_. Everyone who works any job has heard the saying, _“the customer is always right.”_ Everyone who works any job will also know that that is a _boldfaced lie._

Tim felt his smile becoming strained as he explained to one irate woman for the umpteenth time, that _no_ , they did _not_ have the shirt she wanted in the fuschia, and that _no_ , there wasn’t any more in the back. Did people assume that ‘The Back’ was some magical closet where they could just whip out whatever product they wished? Newsflash: _it doesn’t work that way._

“I came all this way just for disappointment!” The lady huffed, tossing the article sloppily back onto the rack. Tim escorted her from the store, murmuring his apologies, sighing with relief when she finally left.

“Well, she seemed nice.”

Tim turned from the entryway, returning his boss’s wry smile with one of his own. “Oh yeah,” he intoned. “She’s just the epitome of politeness.”

Bruce shook his head with an amused snort. “When’s your lunch break?” He asked, moving over to reorganize the rack of clothing.

“In like, five minutes, thank god. I’m starving.”

“What else is new?” Bruce teased, and Tim mock glared at him. “In that case, I’ll join you in the breakroom. I need to talk to you.”

Tim nodded. Hopefully it would be a _good_ talk. His mind ran through everything he’d done in the past three months of working here, but he couldn’t remember doing anything wrong for which he’d get in trouble.

At least, not _purposefully_ wrong. He was a bit of a klutz, and there had been a few… _mishaps_ … here and there, but none of it was intentional.

“You look a little freaked out,” his co-worker, Stephanie, stated as soon as she came in to take the lunch shift. “What did you do this time? Spill something? Bring a shelf down?”

“Okay first of all, that happened only _once_ , thank you very much. And second; I don’t look freaked out.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Skipper,” she replied airily. Tim sighed, taking off the signature vest that all employees wore, watching Steph pull hers on.

“Bruce said he has to _talk_ to me,” he finally said. Steph hummed, looking down at the ebony buttons on the vest.

“Good talk or bad?” She asked, and Tim shrugged.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I’ve done anything _bad_ lately.”

“Then assume it’s a good talk, _duh_.”

“Gee thanks,” Tim muttered dryly. “You sure know how to lift my spirits.”

Steph grinned a crooked grin, tugging on the hem of her vest lightly. “Stop freaking out and go see what’s up, then,” she said simply. “But, if you _do_ in fact, get in trouble, I want details.”

**…**

Tim picked at the pizza on his platter, knowing it was probably going cold, but couldn’t muster up his appetite. He saw Bruce striding towards him, his own food tray in hand.

“So,” Bruce began, sliding into the booth opposite Tim. “How would you-”

“I’m sorry,” Tim blurted before slapping his hand over his mouth in mortification, feeling the heat on his face.

“For what?” Bruce asked, blinking in confusion. Tim cleared his throat.

“I did something wrong, right? That’s why we’re having this talk, I assume. I mean, I thought hard about everything that’s transpired these past few months but-”

Bruce held up a hand, halting his employee’s torrent of words. “No no, this is not a _lecture_ , Tim. I was going to ask you how you would feel about stepping up.”

“Stepping up…?” His voice sounded shaky even to his own ears. Great.

“A promotion, yes. Increased paycheck, more hours. I know you’re a college student, but we can find a way to adapt with your school schedule.”

Tim was sure his eyes were as big as the platter in front of himself. “Really?” He asked quickly. “I mean, I’ve only been here a few months and-”

“-and you’re already one of my best employees,” the older man interrupted, smiling reassuredly. “I appreciate the effort you’ve put into this job, and would like to reward that effort.”

If Tim smiled any harder, he felt his face would stick like that. “Sure! I mean, I’m honored!”

Bruce nodded with satisfaction, and the two fell into an easy chatter. Tim’s hunger returned and he tucked in with new relish.

**…**

“Guess who got a promotion!” Tim practically sang, startling Stephanie from where she was bent over behind a counter of makeup products, restocking the display. “And you thought it was gonna be a bad talk.”

“Excuse me, _you_ were the one who thought that, thank you,” Steph retorted, standing up straight and leaning her hip against the counter. “A promotion, huh? Boss must be in a really good mood. Maybe now is the time to ask for a pay raise.” She snorted, rolling her eyes at Tim’s look. “I’m _kidding_ , sheesh. Anyway, good for you. Now you get to do things like, more paperwork. That should be a blast.”

“Or, I get to oh, you know, be your _boss_ ,” Tim replied with false nonchalance, grinning deviously at his friend. Steph scoffed, flipping her short blonde hair.

“Touché, boyfriend mine. Touché.”

**…**

Two boxes deep into unfiled receipts later, Tim had to admit Steph had been at least somewhat right. Thankfully Bruce was a mostly organized man, and so the paperwork that Tim had to do was minimal.

Straightening the finished stack of receipts, he slid them into a black file (funny thing Tim had noticed; most of the office’s decor was either black or very dark grey), and deposited it into the file cabinet.

“Does being promoted mean I get to dictate when my own breaks are?” Tim mumbled to himself, twisting in his seat and wincing at the pop of his spine. He cast a dubious glance at the stack of remaining papers that awaited filing. “One coffee, then I guess it’s you an’ me for the next hour,” he told it, standing.

-and promptly tripping over the cabinet, letting out the most _unmanly_ squeak possible (and thanking whatever deity was listening that Steph wasn’t there to hear that), landing hard on his hands and knees. From his peripheral, he saw the cabinet tipping sideways, and he quickly stuck out his foot, catching it. “Heavy, heavy, this is actually very heavy,”  he called out to no one in particular. The drawers threatened to spill their contents, so Tim pushed it upright, breathing out a heavy sigh as he slid the drawers back in. “Alright, okay, that was effing close. Note to self, watch where I’m going next time. You’d think I’d have learned that by now. Apparently not. Way to go, Dra-”

“Who’re you talking to, Tim?” Bruce asked, appearing out of _nowhere_ to stand in front of the teen, his eyes holding both amusement and bewilderment.

“Uhm. Myself. And this cabinet. Kinda.”

“Carry on then,” Bruce replied, and yeah, that was certainly laughter in his tone. _Screw you, sir. Screw you._ “I’ll leave you to it.”

Tim refrained from rolling his eyes, as that would be _disrespectful_ , but it was a near thing. Well, at least it wasn’t Stephanie. Then he’d never live it down.


End file.
